


Put Your Lips on My Scars and Teach Me to Love

by taikodragon (hana_ginkawa)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU fusion, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fashion & Couture, M/M, Mentions of Other Voltron Paladins, Omega Verse, Paparazzi AU, Soulmates, Tropey As Hell AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 22:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17795879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hana_ginkawa/pseuds/taikodragon
Summary: Fusion - Omegaverse/Tropeyashell/paparazzi/secret soulmate AUKeith Kogane is the most famous omega in the fashion world.Takashi Shirogane is an accidental male model discovered via SharePic.





	Put Your Lips on My Scars and Teach Me to Love

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2019 Sheithlentines event as a gift for Maximus ([Toughgirl_freed](https://twitter.com/Toughgirl_freed)). Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> It's not particularly fluffy, or nsfw like some ABO/Omegaverse fics are, but that's how this one panned out. I may have made a mistake with world-building. Whoops. I really hope this is coherent.
> 
> Title from the song Don't You Know by Jaymes Young.

Lithe of body and long of leg, omega Keith Kogane was a runway dream. When he walked into a room now, the silence that followed was deafening. All eyes captured his movements around the room while all mouths seemed to lose capacity to remain closed. Add to that he was part-Galra, considered exotic with a braid of raven black hair swinging down his back or looped over his shoulder, and a scar on his cheek, he presented a template that many a designer wanted for their presentations at Fashion Week. Truth was, he could have his pick of them. Far more accurate was that Keith Kogane. . . didn’t give a shit.

And like many a show he’d been to before, he was bored. Fortunately, with exasperated boredom unhidden and obvious to all who gazed upon it, a face like his was perfect for acting like a living, breathing hanger for whatever fabric disaster they asked him to wear. Like today’s current outfit. A chocolate brown lace collared vest over a sheer, cream-colored half-unbuttoned dress shirt, paired with matching chocolate capris with lace interspersed in segments along the outside of the leg and a set of roman-style leather sandals. With heels, of course.

It was moments like these that he often reflected over his history and how he grew up. Raised on Earth until the age of 10, omegas like him were usually shepherded into administrative, hospital/caretaking, political and business positions due to their more calm, stable frame of mind. This usually meant less wars breaking out among the populace with an omega negotiator at the helm, a steady government, and the business sector less about profit and more about the common good. However, his mother was of Galran birth, which tended more towards a warrior type of society.

When his father passed away from running into a burning building, he went to live with Krolia and the Blades of Marmora, a relief organization that was also an elite rescue and spy operation. He trained alongside alphas in basic tactics and defensive strategies and when Keith’s secondary gender presented at age 13 in an embarrassing omega heat, he was then trained like they had his mother. Using his expected smaller stature as an advantage in infiltration, attacking, and defending, which was not unusual in Galran society. 

There had been a point in which he worried about being sent back to Earth. He was so ill-suited for the roles he might have been expected to be ushered toward taking, but he was allowed to stay and he was always grateful for that, despite the reason for it. For years he believed that he would be a member of Marmora for the rest of his life. It was what his mother did, and his mentor, Kolivan, treated him as much of a son as he did a student. But change occurs when one least expects it, and he had been approached by a photographer while with the Blades on a visit to Earth one summer when he was still a teenager. It was a quick way to make a little extra money for spending during their stay and the camera ended up loving him. As did a quiet yet established designer who used him as inspiration. After that, he just kept agreeing to walking runways and before he knew it, his name was well known in the sector. 

Keith heaved a sigh in nostalgia for the simpler days of his life. Before he fell in to being a highly sought-after, androgynous male model.

Lance, his childhood friend and now manager, was standing nearby flicking through SharePic social media posts on his datapad, having talked the entire time Keith was reminiscing, still trying to get the omega to agree to his plan, “Come on, baby! Working for Allura’s show will be amazing! Think of the exposure with the up and coming princess of the fashion world!”

Keith pulled out his Marmoran blade then and started fiddling with it as he awaited his entrance this time through the show, careful of the new outfit he had been poured in to, “First of all, don’t call me ‘baby’. Second, you only want me in that show because you’re trying to win her over.”

“Hey-!” A sound of objection came from Lance’s throat before it was cut off, “Okay, yeah, you’re right.”

The stage manager started to flail in their direction, eyes wide at the weapon in Keith’s hands, which he hid in his outfit quickly and started making his way calmly towards the gap in the wall at the back of the walkway platform. 

Lance called towards him in a jovial tone, “Make us some money, sweetie!” 

Keith was only able to toss a burning glare before dropping into his “stage-face”, as his manager-friend called it. His beta buddy would pay for the “sweetie” comment. The plan for retaliation began to coalesce in his head as he started his sway-hipped strut down the brightly-lit walkway. A slip of his blade maybe, in the fabric of his tan slacks, might prove entertaining. 

\-----

It was quite hilarious, to be honest, how Takashi Shirogane became an up and coming male model. He was military, from a military family, “Garrison-bred and molded” as the phrase went. He would have remained a career officer if his unit had not been cornered by a group of violent space pirates intent on overrunning the peaceful population of the planet Puig and his team nearly slaughtered to the last man. Nearly, or so he was told, because in a fortunate turn of events, an Altean Reserve brigade was also in place on the same white-sunned battlefield and had brought him back to life. He had been left, though, without an arm and his hair bleached to a silver-white by the quintessence used by the healer. He spent another week in an Altean Castle-class ship infirmary and they fitted him with a hybrid Galran-Altean arm to replace the one he lost trying to protect the villagers caught in the crossfire of war.

Now, thanks to a cast-off photo his friend Matt’s little sister Pidge posted to her SharePic account, he was working an unconventional job post-military. His breadth of shoulder and slim hipped frame was far too appealing for social media to not notice his beach trunk-clad thighs and scarred but well muscled chest. Combined with his incredibly attractive face, he became an anomaly, an exception, uncommon but successful in an industry that leaned towards leaner muscled body-types. It was more common to see the slighter frames of beta males than the alpha bulk that Shiro had as a result of genetics and combat training.

It just so happened that he had stayed friendly with the Altean team that saved him and his unit and upon noticing the interest in him, suggested he meet with a man who was close friends with a young and upcoming designer. Thus the self described “Coran Coran the Gorgeous Man” became his agent/manager and his introduction to the whirlwind that was fashion and modeling was on the runway of Allura’s fall clothing line for men.

\----

The fashion world was all a-twitter about the newcomer, the man who was decorated with Garrison accolades, openly worshipping the cut of his jaw and the defined bulk of his muscle. Meeting with the most brawniest of brawny male models in the industry was bound to happen, of that Keith was certain, despite being on near opposite ends of the physical appeal spectrum. Takashi Shirogane, or “Shiro”, was an alpha male who was an alpha’s alpha. His demeanor was that of a man born to be military leadership, assured of his place in the known universe, tall, broad and strong.

Yes, he was incredibly good looking in an open-top jeep sort of masculinity but he probably had the mentality of a peanut with the gross overconfidence of an alpha who didn’t look like anyone had ever said no to him. To say Keith was not a fan of alphas in human society was an understatement. He’d had plenty of run-ins with them both before and after he became a fashion star. However, there was no denying the man’s appeal from a distance. Even with that silly tuft of hair at the front of his undercut, his gaze was like an oasis in the desert, promising of a thirst quenched, a need fulfilled. Oh quiznak, he was gorgeous, Keith let himself think. Still, too bad he was an alpha. He let his gaze go fuzzy, thoughts turning inward towards heavy muscled thighs and a pair of glutes you could probably bounce quarters on. 

“Hey man,” Lance’s tenor voice interrupted his daydreaming. “Don’t look now but Mr. Garrison is noticing that you’re drooling over him.”

Keith focused again and met eyes that were a piercing dark gray. The obvious intelligence behind them made him question slightly his initial impression of the alpha’s ineptitude. However, when a small grin and eyebrow raised towards him, he narrowed his eyes and sharply jerked his gaze away while turning towards the photoshoot makeup and wardrobe area. “He’ll learn I don’t date alphas soon enough.”

Lance tossed his arms up in appeasement, not sure what else he was supposed to do, “Alrighty, buddy. Let’s get this show on the road.”

\-----

For Shiro, he wasn’t about hype. He believed in withholding judgment until he was able to form his own impression of anyone he was going to meet. Shiro had heard that the young half-Galran man was a handful at shows and had a reputation that caused many a stage-manager to be rocked with nerves. He was willing to give the younger man a chance though, to allow his own first impression make the decision for him but when he attempted to meet the absent gaze of the raven-haired omega, sharp violet eyes had focused on him, squinted in what appeared to be disdain, and he had broken the contact with a sharp jerk of his head, his manager or agent or whoever trailing after him, arms flailing.

Well, it seemed that this part of the story was true, or possibly true, at least. But despite this, the shoot, set on the beach with a few other models of various shapes and genders, went off without a hitch. Keith was as professional as Shiro had hoped, his set look indulged boredom and pouty lips. One of the planned scenes had Keith vamping in the sunset glow while perched on Shiro’s good shoulder as he kneeled in the sand, and suddenly, that specific photo ended up the talk of everyone in the industry and outside of it. It seemed that the photographer was able to capture of a rare half-smile on the normally stoic face of the black-haired fashion superstar. And it went viral.

Immediately, Shiro was tossed into the kind of celebrity he hadn’t experienced yet. Being the silver white-haired alpha to Keith’s raven-haired omega resulted in requests for them together to double. While Coran was having a hay day helping him schedule appearances and photoshoots, Shiro found that anything he said in interviews ended up being sliced, diced and reprinted many hundreds of thousands of times, in many sectors, planets, you name it. In a matter of weeks, there were fansites, a mashup of his and Keith’s name, and Shiro finally had to admit that he was overwhelmed by the attention.

He learned soon enough after, that Keith was not what the tongue-waggers of the industry tried to implicate. He was mischievous in a way that thumbed a nose in the general direction of the mainstream fashion echelon and he got away with it, strictly because he sold magazines, and photos, and drew attention to events that may not have had any press without him. He was essentially the public’s fashion darling. It helped that his antics made the front page of many a magazine and celebrity blog. 

But on a shoot or on the runway, he was absolutely professional when the situation called for it. Shiro was able to observe quite a few times the basic respect he had for the designers, despite whatever they put in him. There were other moments that ended up bolstering the image of a mischievous joker and to be honest, Shiro found that he was endlessly amused. He found himself chuckling more than once listening to the stories of Keith tossing around a massive Galran knife casually while waiting backstage, inadvertently slicing the slacks his manager was wearing in retaliation for a comment made, flipping the length of his braided hair in the face of a designer who had yelled at him and thwapping them full on in the face. From what Shiro had experienced of the throng of divas and primadonna designers, he really couldn’t blame the man.

However, the omega model was not quite personable at first. Civil, yes, but a little standoffish. As if he expected Shiro to do something and he wasn’t quite sure what yet. He didn’t think Keith disliked him, but he didn’t necessarily like him either. It bothered Shiro to a degree, as he’d always thought of himself as friendly and approachable, but in the end he let it be. It wasn’t his place to force any interaction between the two of them, no matter how fascinated he was becoming with the man.

He was heading towards the hotel elevator on their latest shoot together, a modern beauty-and-the-brawn interpretation, when he heard Keith’s voice, quiet and gentle in a way he had never happened to hear while on location. It was coming from a small room near the vending machines and he stopped, curious, if a little shamefully so.

“Yes, Mom, I’m keeping up on my training.” A pause while it appeared that the voice was responding. “Hm. I haven’t seen anything off here. I’m not sure about security. I appreciate the warning. It figures they’d decide to go after me. I’m just the helpless little omega, right?” Shiro could just barely hear the tinny voice as Keith paused again. “Yeah, there was an interview yesterday.” A huff and then a groan, “Their questions are endless! How do you get along? Are you bonded? How is he in bed? It’s ENDLESS. . . Yeah, I’m just glad I have a reputation. They expect my responses. . . . . Haha, yeah -”

Shiro stopped listening after he heard “He’s pretty standoffish but respectful, thank Daibazaal. I haven’t had to give him the ‘I don’t date Alphas’ speech.” He continued to the elevator and down to lunch with Coran. It was a strange feeling to hear that, he supposed. He hadn’t expected to be friends necessarily, and he wasn’t sure why exactly he was affected. He brushed it off as they finished their meal and discussed what was coming up next.

The next morning found him wandering in to the gym of the hotel they were at, surprised to find a simply clothed Keith with a wicked looking blade, putting himself through a graceful Galran kata. He nodded to him when the omega’s eyes caught his in the mirror and then ignored him as he moved through his weight routine, hopping on to a treadmill to finish. By the time he was done, Keith was gone and he was alone.

\-----

Things seemed to change after that shoot. Despite the fan sites and media looking for anything to catch them doing together to fulfill their fantasies of a bonded pair of fashion models, the truth was far from that. Tilts of the head and small smiles ended up becoming their greeting and they worked well together, Keith matching poses and when a photoshoot came up where they had excessive touching and nakedness, he ended up allowing Lance to book it, knowing that Shiro was not an alpha to push, and he felt safe with that.

As time progressed, Coran and Lance ended up starting to collaborate on scheduling shoots, the demand for the two of them as a pair increasing ever further, and he found himself at dinners and lunches with the younger man and they ended up starting a conversation. This then turned into exchanging mobile numbers, which turned into meals where it was just the two of them, discovering that they had a lot more in common than falling into the modeling business. Shiro found that Keith was trained by the Blades and Keith discovered that Shiro was into engineering and the science behind the ships he’d piloted. They found a kinship in shared scars, stories about experiences on fields of battle (Shiro), tales of one upping the Galran alphas in training (Keith), and then to sparring after photoshoots.

This new routine brought them ever further into sync and it showed during yet another comparison/contrasting shoot. Keith was, by this point, relaxed and very comfortable the alpha, as he was draped artistically over the broad expanse of Shiro’s pale back, his long raven-black hair cascading over and down the alpha’s side, bleeding into the half circle of white silk that fanned out beyond them. Shiro was facing the opposite direction under Keith, face turned away, his arm out, contrasting against the black fabric swirled out on the other side. Both of their torsos bare, and floating silk in black and white at their waists. 

Keith was contemplating the feel of Shiro’s body under his as they lay prone on the floor when there was a bang from the far end of the studio, the photographer above them on the scaffolding, pausing the shuttering of the camera and looking over, face shocked at what he saw. There were loud voices, yelps of pain, and the sounds of scuffling before a quintet of rough-looking Galran and human pirates found their way to them.

Weapons in hand and pleased glares upon their faces, the largest of the group broke the semi-circle they were standing in and took another step towards them, deceivingly fluffy tufts of purple fur lining their cheeks under and around the long pointed ears. This, apparently, was the leader of the group. Keith couldn’t figure out if they were male or female based on the shape of their form.

“You.” Came the surprisingly light tenor voice. “I am Gnov. You will come with us, or we will kill everyone else here.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed from his prone position on the floor. With a single smooth and graceful movement, he slid off Shiro’s back and stood, facing towards the rough clothed group. From the edge of his periphery, he caught Lance trying to communicate with extreme facial gymnastics before he was miming tossing something towards him. He felt a grin start to creep its way across his lips then. He heard Shiro stand silent and steady behind him as he responded, “If you have come for me, against the warning of the Blades, then you are truly idiots.”

The tall Galran growled at him derisively, “I am not afraid of you or the Blades. You may be trained in the ways of the Marmorans but you are but one half-breed omega. Your capture will help us get information and the release of a comrade in the custody of the Galran government.”

Keith scoffed, “You put too much value on me, Gnov.”

“I think not, son of Krolia, student of Kolivan.” Gnov growled.

Shiro’s eyebrows rose in shock. He had not realized that Keith, who had mentioned training with the Blades, was the son of one of the co-leaders of the organization. He didn’t think many knew that information, actually, or it would have been mentioned more in any of the interviews Shiro had reviewed while researching the omega before their first job together. He continued to stayed where he was, waiting for a signal from the omega, content to follow his lead.

With a jerk of his head, hair loose and flowing down past his waist, Keith caught the gleaming weapon Lance threw his way from behind them, the blade lengthening and flaring a deep purple as he crouched defensively, white-gray silk pooling around his feet. “I think that you may have made a mistake.”

The Galran laughed then, mirth and disbelief mixing on their features, “HA. A mistake. You think that you will be able to take on all of us?”

Shiro stepped up beside the prepared half-Galran, his prosthesis activating and flaring purple just as quick as it had when he had first trained with it. It was going to be interesting to move in the slick black fabric tight around his waist. He chose to speak then, shrugging his bare shoulders, “I’m sure you won’t mind taking him on in a real fight then, one on one. I’m just here for back up.”

The group of men spared a glance for him when they made their move, Gnov heading straight for Keith, long-handled Galran broadsword swinging back to strike. Keith’s own blade flashed up to meet the stroke, a sharp clash of sound screeching as they slid the weapons against each other. Keith then dropped and rolled between the wide stance of Gnov’s legs to come up behind them, blade up and flashing across the approaching human male, knocking him back a few steps, using speed and a roundhouse kick to bring a knee up to the man’s chin, his sword in motion above his head. The man went down, and with another twist, Keith’s opposite leg kicking at him as he fell, knocking him back away and in to a table with all the camera equipment on it. His body still moving, blade following a swing down and back up to meet Gnov’s in another grind of metal.

Shiro grinned in anticipation as the 2 other Galrans and the only other human rushed him. He raised his prosthesis up, blazing bright as a blade made of light flared out from his hand. Letting his sense of proximity and spacial awareness guide him, he met with the first of the Galran’s, a pudgy rotund male, arm swinging upwards, knocking the enemy’s axe out of its trajectory. The man facing him grinned in return until Shiro swung his arm back down, slicing through the weapon the other was brandishing. The tip of the axe dropped to the ground, tinkling metallic against the floor. His opponent’s features melted into shock as Shiro whirled, punching him in the face with his other hand.

He sensed the approached of the human beta from his side, and he continued the swing of his torso to back hand the sandy-haired man, metal and light slamming in to his neck. The remaining Galran not fighting Keith joined the fray, blade coming up to meet Shiro’s blazing hand.

By the time he had brought the thin, light framed Galran down, Keith had successfully defeated his opponent. Gnov was down on their knees, holding the arm Keith had apparently broken, sword a few feet beyond reach. The other members of their party were now groaning, incapacitated and moving slowly as they rolled about in pain on the concrete floor of the studio.

Breathing hard from exertion and smugness, Keith moved to stand next to Shiro, sharing a grin with him as they surveyed their handiwork. The alpha became very aware then of the lack of clothing they both shared, the sheen of perspiration shining off Keith’s pectorals, and the blood burning in his own veins. The reminder of a call between Keith and the aforementioned parent brought him back from whatever possible approach he was considering towards the omega. Alphas were not what Keith wanted. Shiro needed to remember that, no matter how close he might feel to him.

In the ensuing quiet, the photographer moved on the framework above them and they both looked up, having momentarily forgotten about him during the skirmish. The man looked positively ecstatic despite the situation. It was then that his mother found them, pride showing on her face. Kolivan was close behind, nodding approval at the still downed pirates.

“You have done well, little star.”

“Thanks for the warning.” His blade shrunk back down as he moved towards her. “I wasn’t expecting them to crash a shoot.”

“Who were they?” Shiro found himself the center of three sets of Galran eyes after voicing the question.

Lance came up from behind them and spoke up, “Pirates. The Blades captured Gnov’s partner last year in a raid on their base near Naxzela.”

“Keith happened to be on that mission,” Kolivan added. “Which is why she chose to come after him.”

Shiro turned his astonished gaze to Keith, who grinned at him, “That’s what I do on my vacations.”

“Some vacation.” Shiro chuckled. 

Smirking, Keith offered, “Maybe you can tag along next time.”

Warmth spread through him at the offer, even if it was in jest. He looked over as more Blades were moving in and taking Gnov and her subordinates into their custody. Krolia moved into his line of vision, then, a smirk across her face as she addressed him, “You should think about it. With your own combat training, you might find it an enjoyable distraction, Shiro.”

He smiled at Keith’s mother, meeting her yellow eyes as she then winked at him, pulling cuffs from her blade suit to properly secure the nearby round Galran Shiro had dispatched earlier. He had a sudden feeling that he was approved of and he was not quite sure what to do with that.

From behind him, the photographer squawked in delight as he was looking at the photos he had taken. “I’m going to be FAMOUS!”

It was soon after the kidnapping attempt that a spread in the Altean-backed “Flare” magazine became the next big thing in the fashion world. Apparently the photographer had continued shooting the ensuing fight in the studio. A still of Keith airborne became the main focus of fascination, the flowing white silk flared out from his hips and his loose long black hair fanning out as his body twisted, swinging his blade two-handed towards a snarling Gnoz. Shiro could admit it was quite a capture of the essence that was Keith.

\------

After Keith’s initial omega heat, he had never experienced it with the same intensity again. Omegas still had their heat cycles but it was not overpowering or incapacitating. So, being a mixed breed like he was, he was never expecting a true bond to occur. It was rare event even with pairs made of similar species. The trigger was when two individuals, alpha and omega, find what some entertainment shows liked to term a “true mate”. This was a true bonding that formed when the individuals were a chemical and physical match. It was just a bunch of science and biology that was romanticized in all forms of media. Or at least that was what Keith told himself. He hadn’t expected the yearning want for it like he did. To belong to someone like the bond was implied to mean was not something Keith was looking for, but still, in a small corner of his heart, he found that he longed for something, someplace, someone to call ‘home’.

Which meant that when it hit him, he gasped in awareness and the stray thought of _but not me_ flashed through his mind as the bolt of lightning flared out from the junction of his hips. It electrified every nerve ending he had, spreading out to the tips of his toes and fingers like a storm. He swore he could almost feel it pour out of him and in to the ground, the air around him and into the sky. At first he didn’t understand, because this, this was NOTHING like his presentation heat. This was vibrant shockwaves threading through his system, staying on the side of pleasure, but nearly painful in its strength and power. It was all he can do to just breathe, standing there on the set of yet another shoot with Shiro. 

He was in a daze now, the edges of his vision dusky and crackling, but still in control. According to what every omega was taught about this version of heat, there would be about two vargas before he became a bit like a person who’d had one too many shots of nunvil to drive home. Still there, still him, unlike some of the more trashy omega-focused porn and romance novels liked to pretend, but unable to completely focus and unable to consent fully by modern law. 

He breathed heavily, still electrified, and immediately thought _Shiro. I need to find Shiro. Shiro will get me somewhere safe._ But he jerked in recognition of the absurdity of that thought. Sure, they were something closer to friends than enemies, especially after the kidnapping attempt a month ago, and they’d hung out a few times, coffee, a movie, even attended a show as observers. This, of course, fueled the gossips blogs galactically but they had it all wrong. Didn’t they? All wrong.

He began to feel a sort of hysteria of the likes he’d never experienced in his life thrum over the surface of his skin, giddy and disastrous. Perhaps Shiro being his first thought wasn’t that bad, but no, he shook his head violently, trying to clear away the creeping spears of thunder beating up from his groin. Lance was the one he needs to find. Lance was his manager, his friend, his agent. He would get him someplace safe to ride this out.

Turning blindly, without engaging his peripheral, he nearly ran into the approaching tall, silver-haired alpha whose look of concern melted into wonder as his nostrils flared, eyes wide and pupils almost black in an electric millisecond of crashing realization. Keith was pulled in, tendrils of his self-born thunder strikes trying to flare out of his skin, his mouth, fingers of light curving into claws ready to electrify, strike, burn a path of desire up the bare flesh arm of the man equally starting to move closer, as if the static of Keith’s building lust was clinging to his skin, enveloping him in the thunderclouds of the omega’s heat.

“Keith?” The alpha’s deep baritone washed over his skin in waves of light, calming like the eye of a hurricane, and suddenly he leaned frantically out of Shiro’s orbit, eyes searching until he spotted the blue tank top of his manager.

“LANCE.” He strangled out of his throat. The beta jumped at the unusual sound from Keith’s direction and with a wave of apology or something, fuck, ran towards the two models fighting a biological urge thousands of millenia in evolution. When the brown haired man got closer, Keith forced out “Get me to a lockdown room. NOW.”

“Keith.” Shiro was still enthralled, eyes flashing confusion as the storm began to pull away from him. “What- ”

Keith fought with himself to not look back as Lance carefully grabbed his wrist and began to tug him towards their waiting transport, but he failed and caught dark grey eyes, the brows above them frowning in further confusion and. . . hurt? 

Lance yelled from his side, “CORAN. CORAN, get Shiro NOW and get him to lockdown.”

The ginger-haired Altean leapt from his beach chair, the ridiculous hat on his head flopping off as he stared at the slowly advancing bulk of the alpha male, moving almost as if through the crashing waves of the beach behind them, then looked to see Lance dragging an equally almost lethargic Keith past him. 

“Lance.” Keith whimpered, the wind in his head beginning to drown out everything but the sounds of the alpha he was walking away from, “Get me out of here.”

“I got you, bud,” Lance reassured. The transport was sitting there, driver reading something on his datapad, an opened can of soda sitting on the dash. Lance knocked on the hood sharply, the heavy-set man looked up and flipped the control for the door. He was talking before it was completely open, “Hey, we need to get back to the hotel. Can you call in the need for a lockdown room and have them get it ready?”

The chauffeur took one look at Keith swaying, whose eyes were half-shut as his gaze was focused on the ruckus back the direction they had come, before nodding and engaging the in-dash communications. Shiro was trying to follow them, pushing away Coran’s hand as the Altean tried to stop the man from advancing by grabbing onto a wrist. One of the shoot’s security guards had both hands on the scarred bare chest while Coran was on his mobile device, frantically speaking to someone on the other end.

Lance then moved behind Keith and pushed him in the vehicle, getting him belted in before having Frank shut the door as he went to grab their things from the main tent. He was back in a few minutes and the transport was rapidly moving away as Shiro began to yell Keith’s name desperately. In his inebriated state, Keith began to feel tears prickle at the edges of the fog. What had he done? Why did he feel this impending sense of loss sharpen the edges of the electrical storm inside him?

\-----

He wasn’t sure what it was that made him turn towards Keith, but as he did, a scent unlike any other filled up his nostrils like the sweetest ambrosia he never knew existed. He registered distantly the charge of electricity that flared through him, followed by a warmth and protectiveness enhanced by a lethargic sense of time slowing to a crawl. Keith’s violet eyes met his, flashing bright with awareness, and it was like the whole world disappeared and it was just him and the man in front of him. All he knew in that moment was that he wanted to stay there, awash in the bright electric ozone smell chased by the darkened tones of a leathery musk smell, like battle harnesses and the air before dawn. He began to reach for the shorter man when a sharp piercing flavor of fear filtered in and Keith was trying to yell his friend’s name, finally getting it out, sounding strangled. Concern filtered into him and all he wanted was to protect, to give comfort but the option was taken from him when Lance grabbed at an arm and they moved quickly out of range of his reach, hand grasping at the trailing wisps of black hair. His heart clenched in his chest, claws trying to reach in and tear it in two, as he moved to follow.

All he could see was Keith walking away, and he needed to stop him, needed to reassure him, needed to protect. His own manager braced a hand on his bare chest and it was wrong, this was the wrong hand, the hand who was leaving him. When the vehicle with his mate in it drove off, he felt the air in his lungs shatter and his throat crack as he yelled the name that had become so dear to him.

With Keith away, Shiro began to calm slightly, wild eyed, still confused and a lot hurt, though he wasn’t entirely sure if that was true. Hurt why? He had just barely begun this friendship with the dark haired omega. Why would he be hurt? He was still blindly trying to get past Coran though, who had his hand in a vice grip around Shiro’s real wrist, and the security guard was eyeing him with anxiety as he got pulled back from the edge of the parking area.

“Yeah, Matt, he’s in the thrall stages of rut. Can you get here soon? Lance was kind enough to make sure there was another lockdown room available at the resort.” His Altean friend was watching him closely as his chest slowly stopped heaving quite so much as it had been. He was still tingling at the edges, the burning of the flash flood of fire deadening slightly. 

“I’ll be there shortly. I’ve got a ride in a delivery flight that’s leaving for Miami in half a varga.” Matt’s tinny voice ended the call with a goodbye over the communicator and Shiro was focused still on the direction Keith had disappeared in, only half paying attention to the conversation.

“Where did he go?” Came the plaintive question unbidden from his mouth. He didn’t know why he asked that. It sounded so childish to him.

Coran set down his datapad and comm unit on the table they were standing next to before patting the alpha’s shoulder gently. “He went somewhere safe. We can’t have you two mating like a pair of gazurgas out in the open here.”

At times, Shiro found Coran’s word usage confusing. Today, while not firing on all engines, he was absolutely confounded and chose at that moment to sit in the nearest chair, head propped up by his prosthesis.

\-----

Morning broke for him in an odd way, meaning that a tray was sat in front of him where he lay near the wall to the right of the door, and chair scraping across the floor as it set close to him. Worn flip flops were suddenly in his line of sight and groggily, like he’d had a few cases of Galran ale, he peered up to see the bony legs, outrageous blue shorts, and ginger mustache of his manager.

“You’re awake! Good to see it.” Amused purple eyes peered down at him from under an orange forelock. “Come on, let’s get you sitting up.” The Altean reached down and grasping at Shiro’s shoulders, helped him get into a sitting position, moving the tray within reaching distance. “What do you remember, Shiro?”

He ached. His muscles tense as if he had done a few extra rounds of lifting in the gym, his mouth dry and tasted slightly like the copper of blood and he frowned. “I - think I. . . went in to rut.”

Coran was sitting back in the chair, one white ankle on a knee, fingers twirling his outrageous mustache, “Got it in one, my friend.”

One word, a name, came to mind, along with the intense desire to see the face attached to it, “Keith? Is. . . is he okay?”

Coran nodded, “So far yes. You must remember his part of this whole deal takes about three quintants. It’s only been about 24 vargas since the bond started to form.”

Shiro remembered. It was not going to be a pleasant time for Keith, and he was not happy with that thought, but as he brought the mug of coffee to his lips, it made sense this time around. Unless. . . Keith refused him. Which he might.

They had been something akin to dating prior, but even then Shiro wasn’t sure it had been completely understood. They had been having a good time together and he hadn’t wanted to stop. He had meant to bring it up, but with Keith’s aloofness, he was afraid that it would chase the omega off before he could even breach the subject. Keith had said he didn’t date alphas, but it seemed he was okay with Shiro, despite the fact that he was one. He sincerely hoped that this wouldn’t cause the younger man to run. He got the impression that was what Keith did when faced with the probability of a defeat on the invisible battlefield in his mind. The walls in that man’s mind were a fortress that Shiro wasn’t sure he could scale and survive. 

Obviously, the bond that had erupted yesterday on the shoot was going to complicate things. Shiro just wasn’t sure how and if he was going to be happy with the outcome.

\-----

Keith was very much hoping that Shiro had left already. When his heat had dissipated and he was clear headed again, he felt the most intense embarrassment he had ever had to deal with and having to face the alpha was not high on his list of things he wanted to do. In fact, it was so low, that he would rather wear the crocheted hooded sweater of Lotor’s fall collection two years ago. He hadn’t torn that stupid thing off fast enough and nearly ripped it in the process, much to the stage manager’s dismay and the fashion designer’s haughty disdain. Needless to say, he never walked the runway for him ever again, thank goodness.

But as he pulled on his athletic pants and tank top, he couldn’t help the feeling of hope that curled warm in his chest. Shiro couldn’t possibly want him, could he? It was one thing for him to be sought after as a model, a completely other thing to be wanted as a friend, or more. 

As he glanced around the hotel room to make sure he had all he had brought with him, he heaved a sigh and opened the door to Lance nearly knocking him in the head with his fist. “WHOA, hey, there. How are you doing?”

“Fine. I’m - “ he couldn’t help looking down the hallway for something he shouldn’t because it wouldn’t happen. It wouldn’t. There was no way. “I’m okay. Now.”

“Of course, of course.” Lance had on a strange face, following Keith’s line of sight and then looking back towards him. “Looking for someone?”

Refocusing on his manager, he shook himself out of his momentary melancholy, “No.”

“Alrighty, let’s get going. We’re due home, so we’ll be catching a flight to . . .” Lance continued to rattle on their agenda as they walked towards the elevators and rode their way down to the lobby. He could afford to not pay attention as Lance would tell him again anyways and it would satisfy him in many ways to have Lance’s frustrated face when he reminded him and he didn’t actually know what was up next. That was why he paid his friend. He felt a smirk on his own face and was following Lance out through the lobby towards the exit when he caught the sound of his name in the open space around them. 

His head came up like a shot from watching Lance’s sandled feet move across the tiled lobby floor, and it was then that he saw Shiro. Standing tall, strong, fidgeting a little nervously as he approached where Keith had stopped in the middle of the room. Reaching up and rubbing his prosthetic hand across the back of his neck, the alpha peered up at Keith from under his snow white bangs, eyes bright and. . . hopeful. Keith felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.

“Keith. Hi. Uh, how are you doing?” The voice that spoke was kind, gentle, and all the aspects that Keith had fallen for over the course of their acquaintance and eventual friendship. The warmth in Keith’s chest spread further, seeming to almost reach out in an echo of the heat he had just finished. It was lacking the urgency and the near uncontrollable urges, but it was there. A fluttering thing that softened his own nervousness and anxiety. It. . .was this. . . the bond?

He found himself staring up at Shiro, almost as if seeing the man for the first time with eyes clear and focused. They did work well together. And the man was nothing like a stereotypical alpha, Keith reflected, remembering how he had stepped up to assist when Keith had faced off with the would-be kidnappers a month or so ago and had not insisted on taking control, instead deferring to Keith’s lead. All throughout the short fight that had occurred, same with all things they had ended up doing together. It was so so simple and Keith had fought it for so so long.

“Hey. I’m okay.” He smirked up at Shiro, a sense of contentedness filling him where he stood. The world had again narrowed to the man in front of him, but it had been months, Keith realized, that this exact thing had started happening every time they were in the vicinity together. He could do this, with Shiro. He could. 

He could.

Shiro’s next words reminded him why they got along so well, “I am pretty sure you don’t want to talk in detail about what happened, and I respect your wishes if that is the case. But I would like to start officially dating you, since we apparently match so well.”

“Hey man!” Lance came stomping up to them, very noticeably perturbed. “You should maybe put some space between you and Keith, dude.” His arms were already outstretched to spread the two of them apart and Keith grabbed his wrist, stopping the motion and slightly shaking his head at his friend.

“It’s okay, Lance.” The beta male relaxed, eyes still squinting at Shiro before v-ing his index and middle finger to point at his eyes then to point at Shiro, mouthing ‘I’m watching you” before stepping back. Shiro had one eyebrow raised has he watched Lance retreat. “He’s always like that,” Keith advised, “Don’t expect that to change when we’re toge- uh, dat-, seeing each other.”

The amused glitter in Shiro’s dark grey eyes when he looked back at him was breathtaking and Keith wondered when this feeling was going to stop. He didn’t want it to, but in the back of his mind the phrase ‘all good things. . .’ echoed in the dark spaces.

“Good to know.” The amusement was heavy in Shiro’s voice as he gently reached out and brushed the knuckles of his human fingers against Keith’s scarred cheek. Caught in the ever revolving moment of bright emotions chasing warmth in his chest, he leaned his head in to the touch, eyes locked on Shiro’s. “Where are you headed now?”

“Home for a few days. Then we’re going somewhere else, Lance has the details.” Keith shrugged, glancing at where his friend stood, far enough that he wasn’t actively listening but close enough he could be signaled if needed. “You?”

“I have a few days off,” the alpha spread his palm against the column of Keith’s pale neck, under the chin and the lengthy braid draped over his shoulder. “May I, uh, would you be okay if I tagged along?”

Keith nodded once, “I think I would be okay with that.”

“Good.”

\-----  
Soon pictures taken at the scene were all over the net. One photo of Shiro with his hand over Keith’s neck went viral at a speed that would challenge any castle ship engine at full power. And soon, Sheith became the name that was used in any headline that included the two of them.

“Cute,” was all his mother said, Kolivan peering over her shoulder at the pair in the photo on Keith’s private SharePic account posted yesterday. Lance was in the background, face mischievous, bucket of what was obviously cold water in motion, the selfie Shiro and he had been taking made comedic by the looks on their faces as the water had hit them.

“Hm. I was wondering about that alpha. He seemed a good match for our Keith.” Kolivan grumbled, content.

Krolia smiled at the photo again, “Yes, I would have to agree.”

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for Lotor's sweater is [here](https://memed.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2018/03/2-442.jpg) in case you were curious. lol
> 
>  
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](http://taikodragon.tumblr.com/), [Twitter](https://twitter.com/TaikoDragonjkf), [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/taikodragon) and [Dreamwidth](https://taikodragon.dreamwidth.org/).


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